


Investigations Into Interoffice Relations

by xenokattz



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: 5 Times, EVEN when proven otherwise, F/M, I believe this genre is called "romance", It's Jenny Olsen dammit, Until proven otherwise, sex with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenokattz/pseuds/xenokattz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Title: 5 Times Jenny Shipped Lois & Clark<br/>Alternate to the Alternate Title: 5 Times Lois & Clark Didn't Say "I Love You."</p><p>   "Superman is big news these days and that means Superman's interest in Lois Lane is fair game," said Cat.<br/>Jenny had to yank on Inez's arm to keep her from talking. "You want us to investigate Lois? Is that allowed?"<br/>"I want to know for sure if they're getting together. 'Cause if they are, we can drum up some pretty good readership with a little love triangle. Beautiful, successful career woman caught between the love of an alien saviour of the world, and Joe Normal from Hicksville, Alabama. Do you know how many hits that would generate for the DP site?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1: Falling in love in a coffee shop  
**

Everyone working at the Daily Planet went to Caffe Artigiano for their break. It had a U-shaped, stand-up espresso bar that would not be out of place in Italy or Argentina. A small fleet of Milanese cousins served there or filled cups at the mosaic-topped tables pushed against the walls. The original owner supposedly parked his coffee cart beside the Daily Planet building back in the forties, serving Italian-style espressos and cappuccinos during the day and working as a DP graphic artist at night. The two businesses were so entwined, no one ever remarked on the large portion of DP staff sitting at the tables at any given time.

The plans for the new DP building made room for a new Caffe Artigiano, of course, but while Metropolis rebuilt, the newspaper rented a couple offices in a suburban strip mall just outside downtown. One of the offices had a space cleared away as a temporary Caffe Artigiano, complete with an espresso bar made of folding tables and patio furniture as booths. As with the original cafe, this was where the DP staff stole down time, interns, star reporters, and technical staff alike.

The temporary Caffe Artigiano was where Cat Grant deigned to speak with the hoi polloi of the Daily Planet staff. "I have gossip."

Jenny nearly choked on her caesar wrap. Ben from IT froze in the middle of slurping his latest cleanse concoction. Inez, the only other journalism intern besides Jenny, reared back like she smelled something foul. Yan Ping, the circulation gopher, looked wildly around to make sure Cat was actually talking to them and not the next table over.

"Um. That's great, Cat," Jenny said. She didn't know what else she was supposed to say. Cat's job description was all about gossip. If she wasn't so good at giving online readers their steady feed of celebutante sexcapades and rock star drug habits, the Daily Planet wouldn't have bought her blog for exclusive syndication.

Cat leaned down further. "I have staff gossip."

"For your site?"

"I'm pretty sure eager young journalists such as yourselves would love to get their toes wet with some real journalistic credits. If you can dig something juicy up, I could be persuaded to add 'writing assistant' to your resumes." Cat wiggled her expertly tweezed eyebrows at them.

Inez, finally finding air for her umbrage, opened her mouth but Jenny stepped on her foot before anything could come out.

"Wow!" said Jenny. "I didn't know the Planet's writers were that famous! That's so cool! I totes love working here, don't you guys?"

Yan Ping and Inez gaped at her. Ben chewed determinately at his burger.

"Of course they're not as well-known as me," Cat snapped. "But Superman is big news these days and that means Superman's interest in Lois Lane is fair game."

This time, Jenny had to yank on Inez's arm to keep her from talking. "You want us to investigate Lois? Is that allowed?"

"Nothing too personal, of course. The world wants to know more about Superman. Superman seems to want to know more about Lois. And Lois is... well..." Cat deliberately turned her gaze to the left.

Jenny, Yan Ping, and Ben also turned. Inez crossed her arms and stared at the table.

What Cat Grant apparently found so interesting was Lois Lane sitting beside the new hire, Clark Kent. They huddled over a pile of papers and poked at a pair of tablets, their coffees and pastry apparently forgotten. Lois' animated hand-waving and fly-away hair indicated Important Information lay somewhere on that table. In contrast, Clark remained placid, throwing in short comments whenever Lois took a breath.

"I don't get it," said Yan Ping.

"Omigod, you call yourselves journalists?  _Look_ at them," Cat said.

They looked.

Clark finally remembered they had food and was pushing the pastry plate closer to Lois who kept pushing it away as she found more and more interesting things to poke at on her tablet.

They stared back at Cat, still nonplussed.

"I see I'll have to start from the beginning," said Cat with a much-beleaguered sigh. "Their body language is incredibly intimate. Look at how their knees and shoulders face each other."

"They're in a cramped one-person table in the corner," Inez said.

"Look at how he's trying to feed her."

"Everyone tries to feed Lois," Ben said. "Whenever any of us interns get hired, no matter which department we're in, Mr White tells us to leave food at Lois' desk because she always forgets to eat."

"They're constantly eye-fucking."

Jenny almost wrenched her neck trying not to smack the palm of her hand against her face.

Cat softened her voice to a whisper. "Didn't you see it at all during the staff meeting this morning? Every time they make eye contact, they hold it for at least thirty seconds and one of them looks away blushing. Kent made three completely unnecessary reasons to stop by Lois' desk: once to give her coffee, then to give her some paper he could've easily emailed, and the third time, to return a stapler."

"Lois gets possessive about her stapler," said Jenny.

Cat continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "Lane is even worse. She stared at Clark sitting at his desk two separate times for no reason. When she did go to his desk, she leaned over him with her best assets showing, if you know what I mean. And during the staff meeting, I would swear on a stack of bibles that they were playing footsie. I'm telling you, there's something hot and steamy going on there."

"What do you care?" asked Yan Ping. "Everyone wants to know about Superman, not Lois Lane. So what if her and Clark are getting together.  _I_ want to get with him sometimes."

"He's totally dreamy," said Ben.

"And so nice," Jenny added. "Remember when he bought all us interns pizza last week just because he thought we looked tired?"

"He even remembered I'm vegetarian," said Inez.

"Yeah, yeah, he's the next Dalai Lama." Cat waved their comments away. "I want to know for sure if they're getting together. 'Cause if they are, we can drum up some pretty good readership with a little love triangle."

Jenny didn't bother to hold Inez back this time. "What?"

"Beautiful, successful career woman caught between the love of an alien saviour of the world, and Joe Normal from Hicksville, Alabama. Do you know how many hits that would generate for the DP site?"

"I don't think we're legally allowed to snitch on our colleagues," said Jenny.

"Don't think of it as snitching. Think of it as investigative reporting for the entertainment section." Cat slung her purse more securely to her shoulder and with a "Tweet me, my peeps" thrown over her shoulder, she sashayed out of the café.

"He's from Kansas," Yan Ping muttered.

"Like we're actually going to spy on Lois and Clark for her," said Inez. "I'm not going into student debt so I can sell tabloids."

"Well, if you want to get out of student debt, I'm guessing tabloid journalism is the way to go," Ben pointed out.

"Shut up."

**1.a: Never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much**

With two cups of coffee balanced in each hand, a paper sack of breakfast pastry clamped between his teeth and the help of a doorman, Clark manoeuvred into the lobby of his and Lois-- his and Lois!-- hotel room. Metropolis already hummed with activity at five-thirty in the morning. He was lucky to get the first batch of maple doughnuts from the bakery three blocks down, the one Lois proclaimed were the best on the east coast.

When he got to their door, Clark hugged the coffees to his chest to free up one hand for the key. The card worked after a couple tries; he was sure he'd woken Lois up, but the room remained dark and silent. Lois was a lump under the sheets, her hair lit up by a lone ray of light that had managed to circumvent the from the blackout curtains.

Clark put down his breakfast goodies. As quietly as possible, he removed his shoes and sweatshirt. But the scent of coffee was too much even for a night owl like Lois. She groaned.

Pressing a quick kiss somewhere in the vicinity of her ear, Clark whispered, "Keep sleeping. It's early."

"Morning person," Lois grumbled into the pillow.

"Keep sleeping," Clark said again. "The coffee will keep."

"Doughnuts." One green eye glared at him from between tangles of hair. "Maple?"

"First batch of the day."

"Mmmrph."

"You can eat it in bed."

"Fffmm." Lois slapped the pillow beside her. "Hrm."

"Right now?"

She slapped the pillow harder.

Clark slid into bed, his heart thudding in his ears. They hadn't... not yet. But every night he could, he slept beside Lois and no matter how deeply asleep she was, she'd sling an arm or leg around him and everything suddenly felt less... just _less_. Clark was pretty sure he started falling in love with her when she snarked at him about his family shield in a military interrogation room. Seventeen days and nine hours later, he was no longer falling: he was at the bottom of the hole looking up.

He knew love didn't work this way. Nothing in Jor-el's history-- what little of it he shared while his artificial intelligence was still online-- said anything about kryptonian romance. However, everything Clark learned about human love, the real kind, not just infatuation, told him true love was a hot quiet flame tended to for long periods of time. The fairy tale version wasn't supposed to be real but, God! he desperately wanted it to be.

Lois' hand warmed his shoulder. Her feet, almost always cold, slid between his calves. He curled himself around her, his movements gentle. He tucked an arm under her head and circled the other around her back. Her swells fit perfectly into his notches, his angles into her curves. Her hair-- fine, fly-away strands that reminded him of sunlight-- tickled his cheeks.

"Mmmm." Lois nosed his collarbone. "Smell nice."

"I had one of the doughnuts," Clark confessed. "But I got you a couple more."

Using his hair as a handhold, she slid up his body. Air rushed out of Clark's lungs. Blood rushed to his face and to his groin. Lois pressed her mouth against his and as he moaned, her tongue slipped between his lips. He tightened his arms around her, pressing her close, closer, so he could feel the heat off her hips against his belly. Without breaking the kiss, Lois leaned back, tugging at Clark, signalling him to follow as she rolled onto her back. He arched over her, holding her hands in place around his neck.

"You ate a maple doughnut," said Lois. She kissed him again.

"There are two more in the bag," said Clark between the kisses.

She moved south to nibble on his neck. "The maple ones are mine."

"Don't be greedy, Lois." He traced the muscles of her back, his thumbs daring to brush the sides of her breasts.

"I don't share. My doughnuts." And Lois kissed him again, so hard and so thoroughly, Clark wasn't sure if she wanted him to take his shirt off next or if she just wanted to lick every trace of maple doughnut from his mouth. Knowing Lois, it was probably both.

Somewhere between Lois clawing his back and Clark nosing his way up from her belly to her breasts, Lois' phone alarmed.

"Fuck you," said Lois.

"I thought we were trying," Clark said, popping his head up to give her a grin and a wink.

The alarm was quite insistent to the point where Clark thought about offering to incinerate it for her, but at that moment, Lois jackknifed out of bed.

"Shit!" She grabbed the phone and repeated, "Shit!" before running to the ensuite.

Clark sighed and flopped back on the bed, aching, half-hard.

"I completely forgot my teleconference with Perry and the board in--" Lois looked at her phone for a third time-- "ten minutes about the headlines due to go online by six. They're trying to edit out references to LexCorp's lawsuits pre-attack with Luthor's PR team shoving that 'rebuilding the city of tomorrow' bullshit in our faces. Perry and I are trying to pull their heads out of their asses."

Clark opened the curtains. Dawn fought with streetlamps for the honour of lighting Metropolis up. Behind him, Lois was yanking a striped blouse over her boxer shorts.

"And for some reason, they want video conferencing, probably to show off their fancy upstate offices while we're holed up in a former video rental store. How's my hair?"

"Beautiful." Clark handed her a cup of coffee and the maple doughnuts.

"Still hot," Lois said after taking a glug.

"I reheated it," said Clark, tapping his temples.

Grinning, she leaned up to kiss him. "You're adorable and I want to eat you for lunch."

"It's a date." Jerking his thumb in the direction of the window, Clark said, "I'll just go help out so you don't have to explain to the bosses why the new hire's serving you breakfast topless."

 "Just taking a page of the Good Ol' Boys' Club rule book, rookie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am categorically incapable of writing fic without a soundtrack.  
> [Landon Pigg - Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop](http://youtu.be/erywPdFfORE)


	2. Chapter 2

 

**2: From your changing contentments, what will you choose for to share?**

Jenny didn't want to be Cat Grant's "assistant" any more than she wanted to date Steve Lombard. But she couldn't unhear Cat's observations about Lois Lane and Clark Kent. She tended to watch Lois closely any way because she considered her a mentor. Sure Lois worked her ragged with fact-checking, but she'd never made Jenny feel incompetent. Her praises were rare but sincere, her criticisms blunt but accurate.

 Clark's hiring at the Planet had created a bit of a buzz amongst the interns and other new employees because no one had really ever heard of work written under his own name. According to Perry White, Clark published articles under several pseudonyms. Jenny looked his stuff up. They were pretty good but certainly not good enough for Lois to take him under her wing. Roughly written by Journalism 101 standards, nevertheless, they contained a refreshing sort of insight, as if studying situations from a great distance and pointing out all facets of a story. His style couldn't differ more from Lois', a writer Jenny's professor called "the watered-down grandchild of gonzo journalism." But again today, just like yesterday and the day before, and all the day before that since Cat Grant dropped her mealy little bait at the intern table hoping to hook a chump, Jenny couldn't help but notice Lois and Clark together.

 Lois had rolled her chair across the aisle to Clark's desk. Their shoulders touched each time Lois pointed at Clark's monitor. Their knees brushed. Clark's head tilted towards Lois even when she stopped speaking, like he couldn't help but gravitate towards her. Jenny got it; she really did. Who wouldn't be a little in love with Lois Lane? The real puzzle was why Lois Lane acted possibly maybe in a way a little bit in love with Clark Kent.

 She told herself she wasn't doing this for Cat Grant's tabloid column. She just wanted to get things straight. Jenny marched up to Clark's desk, a manila folder in hand. "Lois, I have the documentation you wanted for the Coates District building permits."

 Lois held her hand out. Jenny gave her the folder and waited for another order. Lois flipped through the papers, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the contents. Clark leaned over Lois' arm to look as well and Jenny braced herself for an outburst. Lois hated people reading over her shoulder.

 "That's a LexCorp subsidiary." Clark pointed to a name on the list.

 "You sure?" Lois asked.

 "I've got, um..." Clark flapped his hand at his desk.

 Lois opened the second drawer on Clark's right hand side. "Beside the..."

 "No, just behind..."

 "Got it."

 How in the world did Lois find anything in Clark Kent's desk? Jenny researched for him a few times already. As far as she knew, he didn't have a filing system; he seemed to stuff papers wherever his desk had room. Lois was a great investigator, but Clark's desk was a train-wreck during a riot in the middle of a hurricane.

 She must have looked as bewildered as she felt because the two turned towards her. "What?" Lois demanded.

 "Uh. Nothing. Just... wondering if you need me to look up anything else."

 "What about the--" Clark began.

 "--shipyard accounts." Lois scribbled a three-item list on her legal pad, ripped it out, and handed it to Jenny. "See if you can track down these contracts. Apparently, the company's expanding from New Jersey. The story's a little too clean--"

 "--considering current construction trends--" Clark continued.

 "--pre-attack were reduction not expansion," Lois finished.

 "On it." Jenny scurried away. Okay. That was just _weird_.

 

* * *

 

**2.b: Love is a dress you made long to hide your knees**

Lois could no longer deny how much Clark spoiled her. His gestures weren't grand; they didn't fly to South America or Europe on weekends; he never made her diamonds by compressing coal. Nor would she have wanted these. (The occasional flight to Florence or Croatia would be pretty awesome though). Instead, he showered her with small, constant bits of thoughtfulness. Coffee always made in the mornings to her specifications. Rubbing her shoulders or her feet exactly when she needed to unwind. Pictures randomly sent to her phone that made her laugh. A bottle of wine and nibbles set out when she had to work late and they missed each other in transit. Slow dancing just under the clouds which, all right, was pretty high up there on the grandness scale. She wasn't even sure he understood how rare his habitual kindness was.

 Clark lay on his belly on the bed, his head and arms hanging over the edge while he read through three piles of papers laid out on the floor. When he didn't jam a cap on his head or slick it back for Superman duties, his hair puffed out in a cloud of curls. One curl always hung over his forehead. She loved to flick it before landing a kiss pretty much anywhere on his stupidly handsome face. Affection whirlpooled in Lois' gut.

 She crawled up on the bed and flopped on top of him. "You're looking serious."

 "Mmm." Clark studied two different sheets of paper.

 Scanning the contents, she commented. "Rental ads, huh?"

 "I can't live off your generosity forever," he said. "If I'm going to make Metropolis my home base, I should have my own address."

 "You're looking at Midvale? That's at least an hour's train ride away."

 "The rent's also fifteen percent cheaper than anything in the downtown core especially with the new buildings."

 Shimmying closer to the edge of the bed-- and sheer random happenstance, closer to Clark's hair which she was seriously starting to develop a fetish for-- Lois said, "That entire area is a LexCorp development. You're gonna want to avoid that."

 "Why? Poor building materials?"

 "The building materials are all right. It's the management that sucks. The supposed low-cost, sustainable housing razed an entire mountain's worth of trees in eastern Washington State and the fine print in the lease absolves the landowner, AKA LexCorp, from almost every insurance claim. So even if the rent's not that high, by the time you tack on all the bills plus strata plus repairs, you're actually looking at costs pretty similar to Reeveton or Centennial Park West. Which means the grants LexCorp got for sustainability and social aid are as fraudulent as his botoxed face. Also Lex Luthor is a dickwaffle and you shouldn't give him any more money."

 Clark turned his head to arch an eyebrow at her. "Don't hold back now, Lois."

 She pointed at a separate pile. He obediently handed it to her, turning on his side so she slid off his back and tucked into his body. "You're looking at some pretty crappy places."

 "I'm on a budget. And I've got to make sure the views aren't scenic."

 Right. He had to be able to fly in and out covertly, not an easy task in the age of smartphones and drone satellites. Considering Superman's popularity, half of Metropolis had telescopic lenses trained on the skies for a shot of him in action.

 "If that idiot paparazzi hadn't caught our interview on a roof, this wouldn't be so hard," said Lois.

 "Interviews in other public areas weren't effective," Clark reminded her.

 "I suggested the top of the Appalachians--"

 "But that would increase accusations of bias--"

 "Which already exist because I write the best articles about you--"

 Clark stroked her cheek.

 "--and also I have a vagina and, therefore, can't help but throw my legs in the air when you're around."

 He frowned. "They're still writing those?"

 "They'll _always_  be writing those," said Lois. "Or reporting it. Or whispering it at the water cooler."

 "I could make a statement--"

 "Ineffective, at best; fuel for the fire, at worst. I find shoving their noses into my Pulitzer and my 'bitch-please' expression works best." Lois demonstrated. "If that _still_  doesn't work, I could always use more targets for my articles. Isn't it fascinating how misogynistic assholes who mouth off are also connected corruption and crime? Maybe that'll be my next multi-part series."

 Clark pressed a kiss to her temple. "I look forward to copy-editing it."

 "Ugh." Lois made a face. "I need my good mood back. Take your shirt off, please."

 He laughed. "What, now?"

 "I said please." She nibbled at the cords on his throat. "Come on, Clark. I need a distraction from dickwaffles and misogynists."

 "Now I'm a distraction. I'm hurt, Lois."

 Lois slid her hands up under Clark's shirt and began sucking in earnest on the muscles between his neck and shoulder. She hadn't been able to give him a hickey yet but fortune favoured the persistent.

 "I thought we had something special." Clark grabbed her ass and pulled her flush against his body, throwing one leg over her thigh."I thought we had a connection. A deep, meaningful bond that transcended--"

 Conveniently, in her current position, Lois could still slide her leg back and forth across Clark's groin. His sentence stuttered momentarily but he carried on, brave little solider that he was. She decided to work her way down his left arm to the soft, sensitive skin behind his elbow.

 "-- the, uh, the shallow objectification and commod-- ahhhh, holy lord!-- commodification of people who, uh, should rightfully be judged--"

 He still didn't have his shirt off. Pretty rude, after she said 'please' and everything. Lois pulled on the hem at the back of the offending article of clothing until Clark ducked his head and shoulders forward. Good-bye, shirt; hello, rock-hard man flesh. Lois tweaked one of his nipples while her mouth followed the other hand around his abs.

 "--not according to their--hnngh!-- their ethnicity or gender, but on the content of their cha-character--"

 Lois popped her head up. "Are you paraphrasing MLK while we make out?"

 Clark's panting exaggerated his wince. "Inappropriate for the situation but it's the first thing that came to mind."

 "Your brain is so sexy, I want you to move in with me so we can do this all the time."

 Well.

 That wasn't exactly how Lois wanted to broach the subject but Clark made her want to do all sorts of craziness like remember his birthday, slow dance in public, and shoot people who wanted to hurt him. Around him, she felt things she'd sworn existed in fantasy (but then again, she now lived in a world with confirmed aliens, so perhaps she should realign her beliefs on fantasy and reality). He sure was taking his sweet time answering though. His shell-shocked expression had yet to fade and Lois was pretty sure _she_  was developing shell-shock herself because she'd never asked anyone to move in with her, nevermind a guy she'd only met three and a half weeks ago under the threat of global annihilation. She was confident that he was very interested in her but maybe she offended his Midwestern sensibilities by offering to live together before she proposed and, Jesus B. Anthony Christ, propose? What?!

 "Lois." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "This isn't a 'no.'"

 "You don't have to; forget I said--" she interrupted.

 "I'd love to say 'yes.' The past few weeks have been..." He pressed his lips together, unable or unwilling to continue, so instead he kissed her. Sweet, close-mouthed, and soft on the lips while his hands strayed up high enough that his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts. "Lois."

 "It's okay, Clark, no explanations needed."

 Clark folded her hands into his own. "Lois, please, you don't understand. I'm just... You make me feel..." He kissed her again, harder this time. "I never thought anyone like you could exist."

 "That's funny," said Lois. "I was going to tell you the same thing."

 She returned the kiss, just as hard, pulling a little on his hair.

"I like penthouses," she muttered into his lips.

 "Me too."

 "Besselo has some great penthouses."

 "South Besselo? The part developed by WayneCorp?"

 "Leading the country in legitimate green technologies."

 "We'll start looking tomorrow." Clark nosed down to her collarbone. "Lois, do you think you could take your shirt off, too, please?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAR soundtrack: [Iron & Wine - Love & Some Verses](http://youtu.be/4EFiopuzJMs)
> 
>  _"I never thought anyone like you could exist."_  
>  _"That's funny. I was going to tell you the same thing."_  
>  From _[Superman:](http://www.comixology.com/Superman-Secret-Origin/comics-series/3294) [Secret Origin](http://www.amazon.com/Superman-Secret-Origin-Geoff-Johns/dp/140123299X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372989423&sr=1-1&keywords=superman+secret+origin)_ by Geoff Johns, Gary Frank, Jon Sibal,  & Brad Anderson


	3. Chapter 3

 

**3: Love is a banquet on which we feed**

Chances were high the bruise on Lois Lane's wrist was, in fact, just a bruise. She could have gotten the bruise anywhere. Maybe she slammed it into a mugger's face. Maybe she jammed a train door open on the way to work. Hell, she might have gotten it yesterday when she ran into the mail room guy's cart, trying to get to a story on time. There were hundreds of possible reasons why Lois had a bruise on her wrist. However, Jenny's internal monologue chanted "hickey, hickey, hickey" all afternoon.

 Even if she _did_  have a hickey, it didn't necessarily mean that the hickey came from Clark Kent. Except Clark had been unusually smiley all afternoon, too. Granted, he was the kind of guy who smiled all the time but today, his smiles had extra teeth to them. He was _beaming_. That was the expression of the recently laid. Jenny lived in a co-ed dorm through college; she was familiar with the look of satisfied boys the morning after.

 "Did you win at fantasy football league or something, Clark?" Jenny asked him when she handed him a copy of tomorrow morning's comparative slides.

 "Pardon?"

 "You're looking pretty happy. I was wondering if you won a bet."

 "Oh. Do I?" He smiled again, his eyes going kind of fuzzy around the edges. "I must have just gotten up on the right side of the bed today."

 "Yeah?"

 "Yes. Thanks for this." He waved the slide notes. "How're you doing, Jenny? Do you feel as if you're getting enough out of this internship?"

"I guess. I mean, the research part is great. I'm really getting a handle on how to get information and frame questions properly."

Clark gestured to Jenny's camera bag. "I saw you taking pictures when we covered the official re-opening of Reeveton Square. I didn't know photography was part of your required tasks."

 "Oh! This? It's not really. I mean, it's a thing." Jenny fidgeted. Someone had broken into the intern locker last week and she didn't feel comfortable leaving it in there any more. "I take pictures all the time but it's not really my focus journalistically."

 "Would you mind if I look?"

 "Um. Sure."

 "Just as the Reeveton Square shots and only if you're all right with it," said Clark, his hands held up peaceably. "I understand if this is a private hobby."

 "No, geez, go ahead. It's nothing special." Jenny flicked the camera on and handed it over to Clark. As he leaned over to take it, she spotted a strawberry blonde strand of hair on the collar of his shirt.

 Jenny barely kept down her "a-ha!" The hair was still circumstantial. He could have a strawberry blonde girlfriend who wasn't Lois Lane. He could have a strawberry blond boyfriend. He could have brothers or sisters or roommates with strawberry blonde hair. Strawberry blonde was the in colour this year, partially due to Lois Lane's popularity as Superman's unofficial press agent. Just because Clark had hair on his shirt the exact shade as Lois' hair and just because Lois had a mark on his arm that might or might not be a hickey, it didn't mean they were boning.

 "These are great, Jenny. Lois, have a look at this." Clark rolled his chair across the aisle to Lois' desk.

 Jenny followed. She didn't know if she was excited because Lois Lane was going to look at and probably give constructive criticism on her photography or because she'd see her two favourite people at work interacting in a possibly relationship-like manner. Her internal monologue now changed to "hickey hair hickey hair hickey hair." She felt demented.

 Without looking away from her monitor, Lois held up one finger, then continued to type until she reached the end of her paragraph. "What is it, Kent?"

 Clark silently asked permission from Jenny before handing the camera to Lois. "Jenny took some candid shots of the Reeveton Square event yesterday. There are some pieces I thought would suit the article much better than the official photographs."

 "Show me." Lois didn't make a sound as she flipped through the photos. Neither did she move away from Clark. He kept holding the camera up for her, leaning so far into her space, he practically had his elbows on her lap. Every time she pressed the next button on the camera, they were all but holding hands. Really, people didn't invade each others' personal space like this unless they were sleeping together.

 Jenny mentally squeed.

 "Did you get release forms for any of these?" asked Lois.

 "What? Oh. Uh. Yeah." Jenny fumbled with her camera bag.

 "Good. Upload them on the shared server and give Kent the release forms in the same order as the pictures."

 "What? You mean, you're using them?"

 "If that's okay with you," said Clark.

 Jenny's jaw gaped open. "I... of course it's okay! It's totally okay. It's more okay than you'll ever--" She caught her unprofessionalism just in time. "I'll have that at your desk ASAP, Clark."

 "Thanks, Jenny." He smiled at her. "Good work."

 Just because her mental monologue changed to "I'm published! I'm published! I'm published!" it didn't mean Jenny forgot about her very important clues. If anything, she was more determined than ever to prove to herself that they were together. Two such awesome people deserved to have each other.

 

**3.a: Love is an angel disguised as lust here in our bed 'til the morning comes**

Clark sometimes feared he was too boring for Lois. Without his other abilities, he was a community college graduate from a tiny Middle American farming town whose last five jobs averaged a little over minimum wage. In comparison, Lois was a sophisticated city woman who'd lived in three different continents before she turned eighteen and could hold her own against alien sub-commanders and billionaire industrialists alike. She easily ate with chopsticks and ordered oysters on the half shell by name. She considered country music an oxymoron. On paper, their relationship shouldn't work.

 Case in point: furnishing their apartment. He'd insisted on paying for half of the furniture and other houseware. Lois didn't argue but all the places she'd gone to were exorbitantly priced, in his opinion. Clark didn't see a reason to buy a dining set that cost more than his bicycle when the local charity thrift store had perfectly serviceable ones. She refused to back down on her memory foam mattress with cooling gel cells. He categorically denied the need for another TV in the bedroom. Lois filled the freezer with microwaveable dinners. Clark lined the balcony window with potted herbs from a farmer's market upstate. She bought two laptops to replace her laptop and desktop, and gave one to him as though high-end computers came from gumball machines. He built their home office desks out of salvaged wood from Smallville.

 They at least agreed on the couch which was plush, deep, and upholstered in a warm cream microfibre. One of Martha's prize-winning quilts lay over one arm. A half-dozen throw pillows found their way on the other corner.

 "This is going to be my favourite spot," Lois said, burrowing into the cushions. She snatched the quilt and wrapped it around her like a cape. Two seconds later, she threw it away. "It's way too hot for that."

"We need to buy a fan," said Clark.

 "The person who actually suffers during a heat wave says we should get an A/C unit," said Lois.

 He couldn't argue with that. "I think I'll have time to pick one up tomorrow."

 "I can do it. I'll just swing by the store before I hit the evening shift and get them to deliver. Should I make tea?"

 "Yes, I'm just about done."

 Brunch was the one meal they managed to have together every day considering their (lack of) schedules. More often than not, they bought take-out or Clark flew in some of Martha's home-cooked meals because they both agreed leftover dinner made the best breakfast. Today, Clark had time to cook their favourites: hickory-smoked bacon cooked into a stack of waffles for Lois, egg toast with beans for himself, and a bowl of honeydew slices. Lois loaded a pitcher with three fancy tea bags, orange slices, sugar, and mint leaves, then poured hot water over it all. By the time he finished flipping the waffles on the griddle, the tea had taken on a deep red colour. Lois threw in a tray of ice cubes and half a bottle of club soda to cool it off.

 "Fancy city iced tea," Clark teased.

 "Try it before you mock it, Smallville." Lois scooped a spoonful and tipped it into his mouth.

 "Delicious fancy city iced tea."

She smacked his thigh. "Says the guy who grows his own vegetables on the window sill when there's a perfectly good grocery store two blocks away."

"They're just herbs. And we should really be getting our vegetables from the farmer's market or the community gardens."

Lois rolled her eyes. "God help me, my boyfriend is a hipster."

He was Lois' boyfriend. She was his girlfriend. Clark felt giddy. He'd known Lois for a little over a month; a total of thirty-seven days, to be exact, since his ancestor's ship hurt her and he had to leave her on the side of the military installation in the Yukon. He didn't know how he could have survived the past thirty-seven days without her. He couldn't imagine how he managed without her before. 

"Eat your waffles, Ms. Lane."

As always seemed to happen whenever he and Lois had more than thirty minutes to spare together, breakfast ended with the two of them horizontal and half-naked, this time on the couch Lois loved so much. Lois shrugged her t-shirt off. She didn't wear a bra to bed and hadn't dressed for work yet so her breasts hung bare within easy reach of his mouth. Clark cupped one in each hand. He knew now how she liked to be touched: feather-light at first near her ribs then progressively harder towards her aureole but never rough with her nipples. She loved it when he sucked on her breasts and rubbed her folds at the same time. Right now, she rocked against his thigh, taking care of that particular stimulation seeing as how his hands were busy.

Her nails dug into his biceps before sliding up to his head. Lois leaned down to kiss him, her hands fisting in his hair. Clark licked bacon and maple syrup from her mouth. He re-acquainted himself with the landscape of her body, the sharp edges of her shoulder blades, the curves of the muscles wrapped around her rib cage, the plushness of her bottom, the silk-smoothness of her thighs. Heat dripped from her, staining his fingers and his boxers through her panties.

A low, breathy keening came from Lois' throat. Her nipples pebbled in his hands. She moved her hips from his thigh to the tenting in his boxers and when she slid against him, Clark's chest tightened. Multi-coloured sparks shone behind his eyelids; he hadn't even realised he'd clenched his eyes shut. Each time they did this, his whole body heated and at the same time his veins frissoned with ice. Every muscle from his sternum to his knees locked and at the same time strained to move, move, just move towards the centre of the universe that began and ended between Lois' thighs.

He opened his mouth to breathe. Instead, he let out a ragged moan. He found himself clutching her rear, his fingers playing with the edges of her underwear as Lois thoroughly, methodically devoured his mouth. She pulled away slightly. One of her brows quirked up in a question she'd asked numerous times in the past month. This time, Clark replied with a nod.

"This is a lot better on a bed," she said.

"I can't imagine how it can get better than what we've done so far."

She smiled and rose, holding his hand. God, she was beautiful! With her strawberry hair plastered to the freckled alabaster of her back, her breasts flushed and swaying with each step to the bedroom, her legs topped by lace and the curve of her hips, her lips red with their kisses. He wanted to memorize every last speckle dusting her shoulders. He wanted to lick her mound clean. He needed to smell her wetness on his body, hear her sighs against his cheek, feel her teeth on his arms.

 Lois sat on the bed and crawled backwards into the pillows. Clark followed her down. She slid her hands under the garter of his boxers as he arched over her. She palmed as large a portion of his butt as she could and squeezed. They both laughed, kissed, and laughed some more-- Clark, because of nerves, Lois, because she was a sweetheart despite her thorny exterior. They'd only ever gone as far as using hands and mouths. She'd been patient about his hang-ups on sex. The things she taught him, what they could do for each other-- he couldn't imagine doing them with anyone else.

When she pushed off his boxers, instead of leaning away, he helped her by lifting his knees. He still sat back a bit once they were fully off, his hands twitching a little on her thighs. He'd been naked in front of her before. Just never  _this_  naked. With the late morning sun revealing both of them in bright, cool yellows. Knowing what was about to happen.

 Lois led his hands to the waistband of her panties. She raised her hips, signalling what she wanted from him. Clark pulled her underwear off, lingering as it passed her ankle. He pressed a kiss to her right calf then the inside of her left knee and finally right at the little hood between her folds. She let out a little scream. Her legs kicked straight. Her stomach muscles shivered. Clark suckled a little harder and she gripped his hair as she rocked against him. He worked his tongue and lips on her while his hands traced the tendons and knobs of her spine. Her pulse thundered around him. When her orgasm hit, Clark thought he'd come, too, just from seeing her fall apart. Panting, he curled his body away from the bed to lessen the friction, using his fingers to finish her off.

 Groaning, Lois stretched and let out a soft chuckle. "You are so good at that."

 Clark smiled. "Pleased to have pleased you."

 "Your turn." She rolled over to the edge of the bed and grabbed a box tucked under the frame, coming up with a string of condoms.

 "Maybe we should do this some more," Clark said, drawing her hands to his waist. "To take the edge off."

 Lois circled him with both hands. Fluid dripped steadily from the tip. Never having studied it under a microscope nor really wanting to, Clark didn't know if it was pre-come or semen. He just knew once he got started, the stuff never really stopped leaking out. "Whatever'll make you more comfortable," she said.

 He liked kissing her while she worked him over. He sat back on his feet, his knees open, so she didn't have to stretch to meet him. His hips rocked up into her hand. She gripped him tight; she'd been tentative the first time, thinking she'd been too rough. He reached around so he could curl his fingers inside her. She held him tighter when her legs were closed. He barely had to move his hand to pull those lovely breathy sounds from her. Fortunate because her hands were driving him mindless. Clark gasped against her neck as she pulled and twisted in exactly the right rhythm, her hips slamming against his hand. Fire lit his body. Ice slashed the very tips of his limbs. His groin felt stretched to the limit. All conscious thought fled and with a strangled roar, he came all over her hands.

 Lois didn't have to try too hard to push him backwards on the bed. Love-struck and come-stupid, Clark could only caress her thighs. She tore one of the condom packs open. In the time it took for her to roll it on him, he was half-hard again. Lois straddled him and placed his hands back on her breasts. She took him in hand and, oh lord, she used him to stroke herself back to readiness. Clark watched, fascinated. By the time she slid him into her, he was ready to go off again, just from the sight.

 Then he had to hold his breath and clench his eyes because he'd never felt anything so hot and wonderful and soft and his entire world was inside her right now he never wanted to leave please God he needed to be here always then she moved oh Jesus Lord Almighty and stars exploded in his brain.

 Clark opened his eyes to find Lois braced on his shoulders, her forehead furrowed. "Are you okay?"

 "I was going to ask you the same thing," she said. "That looked intense."

 "I'm wonderful. That was... that was amazing." He kissed her forearm. "Can we do it again?"

 Lois laughed. Oh. Oh, that felt... Clark hardened again. "Honey, I think we're still in the middle of doing it."

 He shifted his hips experimentally. She met him on the upstroke. After a few awkward starts and a bit more laughter, they settled into a slow rocking rhythm. The tightness and stars circled his groin again, shivering up to the chest and down to his toes, but less frantic than the first two orgasms. The slow build seemed to please Lois. She stretched out flatter on top of him so more of their bodies rubbed. He licked the sweat off her neck and sucked a bruise on the inside of her wrist.

 Clark could actually feel her getting there this time, the stuttering clench of her inner muscles growing harder and faster. He increased the pace to meet her needs and his as well. Lois bit down on his deltoid, her thighs and buttocks shivering. He pulled her tight against him, wanting in deeper, as deep as possible. He couldn't stop moving even as he came, even as she writhed through a long, soft orgasm.

 Afterward, she draped over him, unable or unwilling to move. "I hope you're done 'cause I need a few minutes," Lois said.

 "Thank you."

 "The pleasure was all mine, believe me. Three cheers for Kryptonian physiology."

 "I mean it, Lois. Thank you." He kissed her temple.

  _I love you_ , he wanted to add but he wasn't sure she'd believe post-coital declarations from an alien virgin farmboy who never thought he'd find someone to love like this and much less have someone love him in return. So Clark satisfied himself with holding Lois as tightly as he dared and took comfort in the fact that their hearts beat, not synchronously, but in a lovely duet nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Because the Night](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKh1ZRyrQXY) cover version by 10,000 Maniacs, original by Patti Smith.
> 
> #turns the lights down low.


	4. Chapter 4

**4: I will set the mirror up to face the blackened sky**

Ben yanked Jenny back out of the elevator and dragged her back in the bullpen.

 "Ow! I have to go to circulation," said Jenny.

 "No, trust me, you want to stay for this," said Ben.

 Jenny found herself in a corner pod occupied by inter-desk reporters. The slightly higher walls hid half a dozen people crowded around one of the computers.

 "What's going on?"

 "Shhh!" someone said.

 Lois Lane's voice, slightly jaggy, came from the computer speakers. "-- made a deal and I'm going to protect my source."

 Jenny pressed closer to the desk. The screen only showed an animated colour pattern typical of built-in music software but instead of songs, she definitely heard an extremely pissed of Lois.

 "What are you guys doing?" Jenny hissed.

 "Remember Inez's pen project?" asked Ben.

 "The hidden recorder pen that Perry nixed because of possible lawsuits? Then he told her to get rid of all of them or he'd fire her?"

 "Yeah, that one. Well, Inez couldn't figure out where one of them was so she got Yan Ping to set up one of her freaky programs to look for it. Except triangulating the signal makes the recorder turn on for some reason." Ben's grin was kind of freaky.

 "Lane, your source flies around in a blue footie pyjamas and a cape. He's not exactly hiding." Perry White's voice came through deep and clear.

 Jenny gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. She peered around the corner of the pod walls. From where she stood, she saw Perry White's closed doors and shut blinds. Lois' desk was empty. Out of habit, she checked Clark's. He wasn't there either.

 "Guys, this is so wrong," said Jenny.

 Ben nodded. "I know. And yet, we can't stop."

 "He agreed to one interview," said Lois. "I got you  _two_ and the promise that I would respect his privacy from then on."

 "He's not a private citizen anymore."

 "Bullshit."

 "He's got a point, Lois." The third voice in the argument was Clark's.

Principles or not, Jenny couldn't leave now.

 "Don't start with me, Kent."

 "This isn't just about exclusives, Lane," said Perry. "You've never made a secret of the fact that you have certain stances on issues and that's great. The readers respond to that. But you have a bias towards Superman and this paper is dedicated to nonpartisan, full-facet coverage--"

 "That's even bigger bullshit!"

 "Lane--"

 "No! This piece is a hatchet job! You publish this and you'll shove his failures into his face as if he wasn't fully aware of--"

 "The public doesn't know if he's aware of his failures or not," Clark said. "All they know is that Superman's supposed to save them and he dropped the ball--"

 "Superman's supposed to help us help ourselves," Lois snapped. "He never set himself up to be a saviour."

 "Nevertheless the expectation is--"

 "He's not responsible for expectations of every stupid--"

 "--can't understand why he stops one car crash but not another--"

 "--think he's a genie they can conjure every time they screw up--"

 "--use his power responsibly throughout the board and when he doesn't--"

 "Both of you shut up," Perry barked.

 "This article isn't fair, Perry," said Lois. Papers crackled as though she'd crumpled the article in question. "It doesn't even try to be."

 "Which is why we're fact-checking it to hell and back," said Clark. "But it needs to be written."

 "Why? So people will be afraid again? So they'll lose hope? So they'll remember how apathetic and helpless we all felt before Superman came and showed us every person can make a difference? Please, Kent, since you're obviously an expert in human psyche after spending years running around the world not even admitting you're a journalist, teach us how tearing apart the one happy beacon in the dusty fucking wreck that is Metropolis is supposed to be good for us all."

 Everyone in the pod held their breath. Jenny had seen Lois on a rampage before but never this up close and personal. Lois Lane's passion was part of the reason she wrote so well but hearing instead of reading felt different. An unedited Lois Lane was a freaking mad dog.

 Clark responded with one quiet word. "Lois."

 There was so much in the way he said her name that Jenny's cheeks heated as if she was in Perry's office watching her parents shout at each other and, yeah, that's her own baggage but she can't stand to listen any more.

 "Guys, shut it down." she said. When no one moved, she leaned over to turn the speakers off.

 Ben pulled her back. "What the fuck, Olsen?"

 "You needed to find the recorder. Congratulations, you did. Can we all go now?"

 "They haven't finished," said Inez.

 "But we have," said Jenny. "The longer you listen in, the higher the chance you'll get caught. I'm not risking this job for that."

 "And who's gonna tell?" asked someone she didn't know.

 "You're spying on Lois Lane," Jenny said. "You really think she won't find out?"

 Ben cough-choked. Jenny turned on her heel and headed for the elevators again. With half a foot to spare before the elevator doors closed, Lois elbowed them back open. She pressed the ground floor button repeatedly and forcefully, like she wanted to punch it instead. Or wanted to punch someone else. And Jenny had a pretty good idea who. He was quick-marching to the elevator right now, frowning but determined.

 He started to reach one hand out.

 "Piss off, Kent." Lois crossed her arms.

 Clark's entire demeanour fell. The doors slid closed to his bowed head on one side and Lois' stiff glare on the other. They were really mad. At each other. And suddenly, Jenny felt awful for treating them like life-sized dolls even in her imagination.

 

**4.a: You will see your beauty every moment that you rise**

Lois came home from the night desk to a bare table and Clark sitting on a perfectly made bed, staring out the window. She hadn't expected him to have slept; he preferred to nap in the afternoon and work through the night when his heightened senses would be the most help. She dropped her purse by the dresser. Clark turned his head toward her and attempted a smile, but it was an effort. Sorrow radiated off his shoulders. His hands fisted and uncurled on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped so low, she was afraid he'd break the frame.

 Lois sat beside him. She took his hand. His fingers shook. Lois normally disliked excessive displays of romance but Clark just looked so devastated, she couldn't help but kiss the palm of his hand before resting it on her lap.

 "I forgot to get brunch," Clark said.

 "I don't care," Lois told him.

 "I'll get some now." But he didn't move. He didn't seem to have the energy.

 "I don't care, Clark." She turned to kiss his arm, then rested her head on his shoulder, settling more firmly against his side.

 "I'm sorry. Last night was... The work wasn't difficult but..." He shook his head and stared at his empty left hand.

 Lois held that one, too, and gave it a squeeze. She wished he'd return the gesture.

 "Remember the Newsweek piece?" Clark asked. "The one published four days after the attack calculating the damages made to Metropolis with the infographic that went viral."

 She couldn't believe he still dwelled on that fucking article. "You're helping off-set the cleaning and building costs. Without your help, it would've taken weeks instead of hours to find living victims and there would have been even more casualties. Hell, without you, there wouldn't be an Earth left."

 "Without me, Zod would never have found Earth," Clark countered bitterly. "They followed the distress beacon I turned on in the scouting ship."

 "You couldn't have known what they would do."

 "We worked within half a mile of ground zero today, Lois. There's still so much rubble. Between cement and steel, I was picking up parts of--" His entire body shuddered, his breath wheezing out of his chest. "There aren't even entire bodies to... just a-a-a leg or h-half a skull. There was a... I thought it was rebar but it was a... "

 "Clark." Lois swung around to face him. She planted her knees on either side of his hips and cupped his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. She never wanted to see this expression on his face ever again. If she could, she'd tear all that guilt and grief from him, and throw it into the sun. She wanted to resurrect Zod just so she could kill him all over again for making this man hurt. "Clark, honey, look at me. Look at  _me_ , Clark."

 She grabbed his limp hands and pressed them against her cheeks then held his head in her own hands once more, this time gently, her thumbs caressing the lines bracketing his frown.

 "Do you trust me?"

 "With my mother's life," he whispered.

 "Then believe what I'm going to say." She leaned in close, closer, until their noses practically touched and Lois could see the patches of brown bisecting the nebula-blue of his eyes. "This wasn't your fault."

 "But I--"

 She slid her fingers around to his curls and gave him a little shake. "With your mother's life, Clark."

 He audibly swallowed, his breathing still broken.

 "It's not your fault. I believe this with everything I am, from a completely unbiased and logical point of view, and since you trust me with your mother's life, you have to believe what I'm saying is true."

 "Lois," he gasped, and Lois couldn't stand to hear the pain in his voice again so she lunged past the final two inches separating them to shut him up with a kiss.

 Although she made her living with words, Lois always felt at a loss describing Clark's kisses. She had her first boyfriend at fifteen and many others in the years since along with one-night stands and fuck buddies. Some had more experience than her, some had less. She'd genuinely liked some of them, possibly loved one, and simply enjoyed the bodies of the rest. She'd had dry, sloppy, breath-taking, tongue-waggling, toothsome kisses. She'd had sweet busses on the cheek and wonderfully filthy kisses to her lady bits.

 Clark's kisses made her want to cry. Not because they  were in any way awful. Clark put everything he had on the table when he kissed her. He poured every ounce of his feelings in the way he tasted her lower lip and slid his tongue across the roof of her mouth; the way he invited her to taste him; in the breaths he sipped from the back of her throat, and the breaths he'd offer; how he melted-- this immovable force of nature melted into her-- until she felt the pounding of his heart against hers. She had never felt more cherished, more respected, more... goddammit, it was too soon to say that word but she felt it and it made her want to cry because she knew he meant it without expectation.

 "Lois," he said again, his voice like muted thunder.

She pushed him-- he let her push him-- back onto the bed, still straddling his body. His hands slid to her waist. This was familiar, this prelude to sex. This was the part where she rocked against the bulge in his jeans or stripped off her shirt. She could still.

 But first Lois took Clark's hand, pressed a kiss against his palm, and placed it over her heart. Then she held her hand against his lips. The darkness leeched out of his eyes. Clark kissed the centre of her palm. Lois placed it over his heart.

She stretched across his body, their hands trapped between their bodies. Lois held him for hours until the raggedness in his breath evened out. She swore she'd always be there to hold him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack continues.  
> [The Hush Sound - You Are The Moon](http://youtu.be/5avW7Bw-1tA)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking longer than usual with updates. I've been working entertaining relatives the past week. Thank you so much to all the readers, feedback-writers, kudo-button-clickers, and word-of-mouth-spreaders! Hope you enjoy the conclusion of this brain-eating fic!

**5: Every word you say I think I should write down**

Jenny's resolution to not be a total creeper on her co-workers took a good beating today. She blamed it on Lois and Clark's own stupid in-joke giggling because  _really_ only besties since high school and committed couples had in-jokes involving filing.

 "Should I even ask where I should stack these photos from archives?" she asked.

 "I'm sorry, Jenny." Clark lifted his glasses to wipe the corners of his eyes. "Okay. Sorry. We're professional now."

 Lois honest to God snorted which set Clark off again and Jenny knew she should just give up and make a Tumblr full of captioned gifs about them already, like the sick, sad puppy she was turning out to be. Jenny slunk back to her pod to look at her life and look at her choices when who should come in to further mess her up but Cat Grant in her designer glory. All hope Jenny had of finishing real work disappeared when Cat recognized her.

 "Darling! I'm so glad you're still here!" Cat kissed the air on either side of Jenny's cheeks. "We have to catch up."

 "Actually, I have a deadline--"

 "I'll talk to Perry about your silly little deadline."

 "Actually, I have a pretty important list of phone numbers I need to--"

 Cat swung Jenny around and out the door to the section of the strip mall where the temporary Caffe Artigiano lay. She ordered an espresso for herself and a cinnamon dusted latte for her. Jenny was surprised Cat remembered her drink. But she probably shouldn't have; in her line of work, Cat had to be as observant, if not more, than investigative reporters. It was really a pity she didn't use her powers for good.

 "So, where have we gotten on our little project?" asked Cat.

 "We didn't have a project, Ms Grant," said Jenny. "I didn't accept the offer. I'm really more interested in the city desk."

 "This  _is_ city desk material!"

 "More traditional city desk material."

 Cat gesticulated curtly at the air, showing Jenny what she thought of "traditional city desk material." "If you want to make a name for yourself, you have to be the first to get out there, the first to break news no one else has."

 "I know but that's not the type of news--"

 "My site brings in half the hits for the paper's site and Superman dirt will drive that up even more."

 "I get that, but I don't think--"

 "And if there's nothing but the same old blurry streaks against the sky to post on the site, the hits drop! We don't want the hits to drop."

 Jenny straightened. "Is that what this is about? You can't find more paparazzi pictures of Superman so you're going to make up for it by making up drama and dropping his name in it? Isn't that libel?"

 "Implicate, speculate, and tease," said Cat. "Lawsuits only make the story more popular."

 Standing up, Jenny said, "I'm  _really_ the wrong person for this, Ms Grant. I want to expose the truth, not obfuscate it. With all due respect to your audience, I think the Planet can aim a little higher than celebrity gossip for its readers. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go back to work." With her chin held high, she stalked back out of the café to the Daily Planet proper. She took the coffee though because groceries were stupid high and the three o'clock blahs were just around the corner.

 Once she got to her desk, however, Jenny felt pretty sick. As much as she disliked Cat Grant's work, she was much higher on the totem pole than a mere intern. She had clout with The Powers That Be exactly because half the hits The Daily Planet got were from her column. With a few well-whispered words, Cat Grant could ruin Jenny's career before it even started. Jenny sat with her hands at her stomach. The coffee didn't taste quite that good any more.

 "You okay?" Inez stopped in mid-stride at her desk.

 "Lactose intolerance," said Jenny, waving at the coffee. "I have to finally admit I have a problem and I'm devastated."

 "Use almond milk. It doesn't leave a weird aftertaste like soy."

 "Thanks. I'll try that."

 From across the room, Lois Lane shouted. "Olsen!"

 Jenny shot to her feet. Inez stood up straighter in reaction to the tone. Doing her best not-a-run, Jenny reached Lois' desk in a couple seconds. "What do you need?"

 "I've got a lead on the smuggling story that might need another camera lens. Think you can keep up?" Lois toed off her heels for a pair of sneakers tucked under her desk, and slipped her wallet in a back pocket.

 "Sure!"

 "Grab your gear and meet me here in five."

 Jenny most definitely ran back to her pod. The swirling in her belly had changed to something else entirely-- a combination of excitement, fear, and satisfaction. She swung her camera bag over one shoulder and thumbed through her own wallet for her driver's license, phone, and press pass. She'd have to lock the rest up but all the important stuff was with her any way so whatever, locker room thief.

 She was back at Lois Lane's desk so quickly, Lois didn't quite have time to close down the chat window on her phone. Clark Kent had apparently typed "your turn for laundry" to Lois. But for once, Jenny didn't care about that as much as the opportunity to work on something with real substance for once. So Lois and Clark were together. So what? Jenny Olsen, rookie photojournalist, was on the job.

 (Okay, maybe she cared a little)

 

**5.a: You want the sunrise to go back to bed; I want to make you laugh**

"Of all the times for the stupid server to go down!" Lois pounded her fist on her desk. "Stupid piece of--  _argh_!"

 "Can you retrieve anything from the harddrive?" asked Clark.

 The look Lois sent him would have withered trees.

 He raised his brows. "Just asking."

 "This isn't my first time at the IT rodeo, Smallville."

 Clark spun his chair around and wheeled it to her of the desk to drop a kiss between her shoulder blades. Lois swatted his thigh, determined to stay irritated. Smiling, Clark tickled her belly, foiling her escape attempts with kisses to her ear, her cheek, and the rounded bone of her shoulder.

 "Not on company time," said Lois.

 "We're at home."

 " _Working_ from home." She narrowed her eyes at him when he laughed and kissed her chin. "You have a deadline, too."

 "I'm finished."

 "No fair using super speed typing."

 "All's fair in love and deadlines." He danced his fingers up Lois' sides into her armpits, pleased when she had to muffle a snort.

 "Stop it, Clark! I mean it."

 Resting his head on her shoulder, Clark said, "Break for lunch."

 "Remember how thirty seconds ago the computer ate my article?"

 "And it's not going to get any more lost if you take a thirty minutes to eat." He headed for the fridge. "I'm craving banh mi or pizza. What about you?"

 Lois didn't reply. Sighing, Clark called the banh mi place to place their order while Lois continued to swear under her breath at the Daily Planet network. She hunched close to her laptop screen as though daring it to take another swing. The hairs on her nape caught the afternoon sun. Wrinkles furrowed her brow and the space between her eyebrows. Her lower lip thrust out. The muscles in her jaw and temple drew tight. Clark thought there was nothing more beautiful than Lois concentrating on an assignment. She wore her determination unapologetically, her obstinacy as much a declaration as the House of El crest on his Superman clothes.

 Want overwhelmed Clark. Not just sexual desire, although he had a healthy amount of that. He wanted to hold her where her body tucked perfectly into his. He wanted to ensure nothing in the universe would ever hurt her. He wanted to feel her arms wrap around his back so her hands rested under his shoulder blades. He wanted to keep her smiling. He wanted fall into the daily mundane with her because they'd never be mundane when she was around. He wanted to be with her, even if she didn't want him anymore, just to bask in the sunlight of her presence.

 "Take a picture; it'll last longer," Lois said without looking at him.

 Clark's cheeks heated. "Any luck?"

 "I'm just going to try to recreate it. I'll spend just as long fighting with the network and, quite frankly, this particular piece isn't worth the aggravation."

 "Good luck then." He pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head. "I'll fold laundry."

 "You washed."

 He shrugged, heading for the full hampers. "I don't mind. You're still working and it's a pretty quiet day for the second job."

 To be honest, Clark liked the organized monotony of folding clothes. He went around a narrow accent wall, the only architectural piece in the loft, to the main space which held the kitchen, dining area, and living room. The couch was piled with clean laundry. He pulled out bottoms first, separating trousers requiring ironing from jeans and other casual wear. He'd only gotten to two jeans when Lois slipped her arms around his waist. She laid her cheek on the middle of his back. He laid his hands over hers.

 "Hi," he said.

 "Hi." Lois pressed a kiss right under his shoulder blade. She rubbed circles on his abdomen. Her touched warmed his front as the press of her body did the same to his back. He rested his hands on her wrists, content to fill his senses with her presence.

 He found himself swaying, dancing without music. He turned to face Lois and hooped his arms low on her hips, still moving. She smiled up at him then snuggled back in. Her hands rested around his neck now; she scratched his nape lightly, her nails catching on his hair.

 "What are we dancing to?" she asked.

 "Pick something," Clark replied.

 "Mmm, and have you silently judge my music choices, Mr Folk Rock and Alt-Country?"

 Clark zipped to the computer to set a playlist. Lois was still laughing at her hair ruffling in the breeze he created when he returned to their embrace. They shuffled into a waltz as first few bars of the song came tinnily through laptop speakers.

 "A ukulele? Really?" She squinted up at him.

 "Ballads are just as good coming from musicians who don't wear tiger-print leggings."

 "Honestly, Clark, I don't think even my dad listened to songs like this and he thinks playing my high school mix tapes backwards delivers satanic messages."

 "Will you please stop ruining the moment, Lois?" He pulled her closer so he could rest his chin on the top of her head.

 They'd made their way back to the office. Lois slowed her caresses on his neck, matching the rhythm of the song. Despite her objections, she seemed to know the lyrics; she mouthed them against his chest. "If you must cling to someone, now and forever, let it be me."

 Clark pulled away just far enough to tilt her head up for a kiss. Lois tightened her hold on him. She nibbled on his lips then soothed the bites with soft licks. He loved the touch of her tongue against his. He loved the taste of her in his mouth and the moist ridges of her palate. He pulled her closer and higher still. Her knees came around his hips, her ankles locking behind his back. Her heels dug into his buttocks.

 He cracked his eyes open just long enough to find the nearest surface. The kitchen counters held too much cooking equipment. Their dining table wasn't that sturdy. The couch was full of clean laundry. The accent wall, on the other hand, was right there. Clark only had to take three steps forward to press Lois against it. He rubbed up between her thighs. She let out moan, shivering, and tugged on his hair. Clark ducked his head down to work the sensitive tendons of her neck. Lois continued to grind herself against his groin.

 "We just-- fuck!-- put up pictures," she said.

 Clark ignored the non sequitor in favour of tracing the knobs of her spine as he pulled her shirt up.

 "Clark, the--Oh God-- the frames are gonna fall off the wall."

 "I'll put them up again," he murmured. He lapped at the sweat beading on her skin before they could slip down the curves of her breasts. He loved Lois' habit of wearing yoga pants around the house. Stretchy yoga pants were much easier to remove than dress slacks or jeans.

 Lois kicked the pants off as soon as he pulled them down to her shins. She fumbled with the zipper on his jeans. Clark let her down, intending to release her only long enough to help her remove his clothes but Lois kneeled as she pulled his pants and briefs down then sucked on the swollen head of his penis. He let out a shout, slamming both hands against the wall. Something on the other side crashed.

 Clark swallowed a profanity. He looked through the wall. "The, uh, armchair caught the bookcase. But not the books."

 Lois let him go with a soft "pop." "You can re-arrange them quickly enough."

 He wagged his head in a frantic nod. He'd re-arrange the whole apartment a dozen times if it meant she'd keep on doing what she was doing. Lois smirked; she must have known exactly what he was thinking, not that he was that hard to read. Angling his penis up, she licked a stripe from the skin stretched taut between his sac and the base of his length.

 Gasping, Clark braced one arm on the wall, he pressed his face into his forearm. He couldn't look at her, not while she had one hand clenched on his thigh and the other working with her mouth to drive him completely crazy. She held him tight, her suction absolutely perfect, her tongue flicking all around him. He fought to gentle his thrusts, not wanting to hurt her. He counted backwards from one hundred in Kryptonian to stave off his orgasm.

 She swirled the tip of her tongue around the ridge on the tip before releasing him. She nipped at his hip bone, sucking and licking a trail up his side, and all the while, she slicked her hands along him, rolled his balls in her palms, traced the slit at the tip with her nails. By the time Lois kissed the taut tendons of his neck, Clark had no coherent thoughts left. He pushed her up against the wall, pulled her legs over his elbows, and drove forward. Manila folders and stacks of paper flapped to the ground.

 "Shit!" This time, Clark couldn't stop himself from swearing.

 Chuckling, Lois said, "Too much sensitive material to do this here. Couch?"

 "Clean laundry."

 "Bed."

 "Too far away."

 "You can travel from here to Singapore in under an hour; the bed isn't too far away."

 He flew, tilted a touch to the left, behind two tall, carved shelving units they'd bought off a library in Connecticut about to be demolished. The books and coloured glass backing the shelves provided enough privacy for the bed Lois argued for so vehemently when they furnished the place. Clark could fall asleep on any horizontal surface but he did appreciate the sensation of waking cradled in plushness and Lois. And that foam was incredibly durable considering how much abuse they tended to lay on it.

 He landed on his back on the bed then immediately rolled over so Lois could have the soft surface. She hugged him with her legs and yanked his mouth back on hers, arching her back until she could find him, stiff and dripping, bobbing against her stomach. She was so wet, he didn't quite go in the first couple of thrusts but she held him in place and angled her hips just so. He let out another cry with the next push because, finally, God! finally, he was inside her and the world was wonderful once again. She leaned her shoulders back and braced her feet as she pushed up, changing the angle once more. He pulled her up into an embrace, needing more of her against him, wanting every possible inch of them touching, driving in and--

 They rolled off the bed. Lois' elbow rammed into his throat. Clark jerked away and immediately scanned her for broken bones. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

 Lois was laughing. "I'm fine, I'm fine, let's keep going."

 "Your arm--"

 "Your dick." She bounced on top of him, playful and sexier than anyone had any right to be.

 They crawled back to bed. Lois made adorable little noises as she sucked kisses into his neck and shoulder. Clark realised the noises were muffled giggles. He had to grin as well. Cupping her head with one hand, he gave her a proper kiss on the mouth. Then he slid down on the bed to blow a raspberry on her belly. Lois screamed and kicked at his shoulders. Clark held her knees in place. Her heels dangled at his shoulder blades. He rocked his hips a few times over her mound before she had enough of that and put him in. She crossed her ankles behind his head. He cupped her rear with one hand and pressed his thumb up and down her slickness with the other. Her neck arched back, her jaw dropping open, and she braced her hands on the edge of the mattress above her head.

 The next few minutes blurred into wet heat and sweat-slick limbs, muttered endearments and whispered commands, the tangled sheets and her soft curves, driving him closer and closer to the point where his entire world narrowed to the pulsing of Lois' body. When she came, sighing brokenly against his jaw, Clark pulled her hips flush against his and just rocked, unwilling to separate himself from her any more, even with this because he needed so badly, he needed her, wanted to never leave her, couldn't be apart, please always forever--

 She was petting him when he came out of his orgasmic daze, her lips red, her cheeks rosy, her hair matted around her shoulders and his.

 "If that's what old-timey country music does for you, I may have to expand my musical horizons," said Lois.

 "They're classics for a reason," Clark said.

 She twined her arms around him. He shifted so she could wiggle away from the wet spot. Their noses nearly touched as they lay on the same pillow. Clark could see the web of blue and grey in her eyes. She smiled. Her lashes fluttered downward, then glanced over his shoulder, then somewhere on his jaw before re-establishing eye contact. He returned her smile. For no reason he could understand, they chuckled. Once they started, they couldn't stop.

 If there was anything better than laughing in bed with Lois, tracing the dip of her spine while she scratched at his scalp near his nape, Clark didn't know about it. And if they couldn't quite say the words yet, if past experience or logic still held them back, he could wait. He couldn't possibly love her this much if she didn't love him, too, so he would wait.

 Clark noticed Lois writing the same four letters over and over on his neck while he drew a heart at the base of her spine. His smile grew wider. He wouldn't have to wait too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Section titles from [Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk ~ Paperweight](http://youtu.be/QyNDRNixFio) but the song they're dancing to is [Reid Jamieson's cover of the Everley Brothers' "Let It Be Me"](http://youtu.be/b9g_bwW4pd8)


	6. And the one time they did

At long last, finals were over and Jenny was free to find any job with the barest relation to her degree so she could pay off her staggering student debt. But first, a road trip with her college roommates to exotic Cape May because they were classy bitches who preferred sipping gin and tonics at heritage sites instead of pounding shots at Belmar. Two of the girls brought their boyfriends; Jenny and another girl went stag. They ate oatmeal all day so they could splurge on high-end resto-bars at night and the only worrying they were allowed to do for the whole week was whether or not their bikini tops matched the bottoms.

 While her friends tried and failed to paddleboard, Jenny volunteered to walk back to the cabin and grab more beer. She'd gone over half a dozen dunes before realising she was kind of lost. Instead of a row of purposefully quaint cabins, she found a pair of bikes leaning against a wooden fence. Jenny craned her head to look for the owners and ask for directions.

 A dozen yards and two dunes away, a man and woman lounged on a brightly woven rug. Jenny headed their way to ask for directions when the man turned his head. She knew that profile. Clark Kent adjusted his glasses. His said something inaudible to Lois Lane who had her head on his chest. She replied and they both laughed. Their hands were clasped over Lois' belly.

 Clark stretched away from Lois to pluck a white-petalled flower peering over the edge of their blanket. In a move straight out of every cheesy romance Jenny loved to watch while she PMS'd, he kissed the flower then tucked it behind Lois' ear. Lois slapped his chest but rose on her elbows to kiss him on the lips and it was so freaking sweet and beautiful, Jenny snuck away, blushing.

 She left so quickly, she didn't see the waves lick away a heart drawn on the sand with "Lois + Clark" at its centre.

Which was just as well because Lois still hadn't stopped teasing Clark about it by dinner time.

 

~fin~


End file.
